


A New Home for Freaks

by Isscha



Series: Thursday One-Shots [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Gen, Helping Harry Potter, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 14:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17285795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isscha/pseuds/Isscha
Summary: Harry Potter’s childhood had been much worse than Severus Snape ever could have ever imagined.





	A New Home for Freaks

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins a lot darker than any other that I have posted yet or even have in my WIP folder. However, it very quickly becomes one of a broken man who manages to see past his own hurts and help an even more broken little boy. Severitus. (parent. NEVER romantic.) The abuse Harry suffers in the story is far worse than canon ever even hinted at, but the story worm popped in my head and wouldn’t leave until I wrote it. It’s been almost a year in the making, and I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Please don’t send me messages about “oh, Harry wasn’t abused like this!1!!!1!!1!!” I know. This is fanfiction.
> 
> Fan.
> 
> Fiction.
> 
> Also, I don’t want messages about “oh, snape wouldn’t act like this.”
> 
> Again, fanfiction. 
> 
> Thank you. 
> 
> Warning: This story begins with detailed abuse and rape of a minor.

When the first letter came, Freak’s uncle was wiping traces of blood of his softening cock, his naked, trembling nephew crumpled at his feet. “Who would write to you, Freak?” He hissed, shredding the letter with large, meaty fingers.  He scattered the tiny pieces of what used to be the letter like snow around Freak’s bruised body, some pieces sticking to the sticky mess he always seems to have on his person. “Dudley will want his dinner when he gets home.” His chuckle was low and full of threatening promise for the punishment if Freak failed. 

 

When the second letter came, Freak was in the garden, his hands bleeding from the weeds and thorns.  Vernon took great pleasure in ripping the letter up and shoving each piece down Freak’s throat with each savage slap.  “You won't need dinner tonight, will you Freak?” He laughed as the boy tried not to choke from the strange paper or cry from the brutal punishment and shoved a paper covered finger further down Freak's throat, making him retch painfully.

 

The third letter came while Vernon had a very important businessman visiting. When the letter dropped through the door, and Vernon’s face turned purple, Freak immediately cowered into himself, already feeling the pain in his backside from what he knew would be coming as soon as the very important man left. 

 

“You should be grateful I’m willing to touch you at all, you dirty little whore.”  

 

He stammered his gratitudes in a futile hope that it would prevent his punishment for the letter.  He stopped when he felt the familiar tearing as he was brutally entered and was immediately slapped across the back of his head.  He cried out the gratitudes obediently, and for the first time since he was small, a drop escaped his tear ducts and trickled down his cheek. 

 

The fourth letter was accompanied by a dark haired man who wore black boots and trousers and had a greasy tone in his voice. When Freak opened the door at Vernon’s command, he immediately stepped back to allow the stranger passage. 

 

“Harry Potter, I presume?” The stranger's voice snarled almost unpleasantly and Freak held his ground as he was supposed to, bowing his head lower as the man continued to talk. “Hagrid tried insisting on coming to retrieve you, however as he is unable to use magic legally, the Headmaster assigned me to this task.”

 

Freak blinked at the floor in confusion.  He understood almost nothing of what the stranger was talking about, nor to whom he was referring to, and so whispered to the man, “this way, please” to lead the man to the living room.  

 

“Of course he is too good for eye contact.”  The man muttered under his breath in a way that told Freak he wasn’t meant to have overheard.  He wondered why the man seemed to be irritated by the way he didn’t look up. No one wanted Freak to look up at them.  It just wasn’t done.

 

When he tried to edge silently out of the room to fix his cousin’s after school snack, a not-so-subtle growl from his uncle held him in place. He automatically assumed the position required of him when forced to interact around other people: feet and legs snapped together, hands clasped behind him, and head bowed with eyes in the floor. 

 

The strange man was speaking to his uncle. “I am taking him and he will be attending school with his peers.”

 

“And I'm telling you, no.  He is not one of you, we've made sure of it.” Vernon sounded like he was trying to be jovial, but Freak knew better. If the stranger kept pushing, Freak would pay for it later. He mentally begged the stranger to stop, that he was sore enough and didn’t think he could take any more this week.  If the man was here for him, he must be one of Uncle’s friends.

 

And Uncle’s friends were usually not as nice as Uncle was in doling out punishments.  He held back a shudder at the memory of the treatment from the last host he stayed with and kept his attention on the conversation and prayed his cousin and aunt would be late.

 

It was not to be.

 

The door opened and the clip of heels and the thud of trainers sounded in the hall. Petunia and Dudley were home and Dudley's snack wasn't prepared. He risked a glance at Vernon, who met the boy’s eyes and grinned wickedly. He had planned this outcome, Freak realized, and sighed internally.  Nothing ever could go his way for once. And then he mentally barated himself for even thinking that Freak deserved any sort of kind considerations.

 

He would think he knew better after almost 10 years of abuse by his Uncle and 5 years of being passed around like a sex toy amongst his uncle, his friends, and their friends. 

 

“We are in the sitting room, Pet. We have a guest.” Vernon sounded cheerful, comfortable. Freak could hear in his tone that Vernon thought he had already won against the stranger.  

 

Vernon always won his way.

 

But when Petunia stepped into the room, the atmosphere went icy and she hissed. “Oh, I am well acquainted with this _guest_.  Leave my house at once, Severus Snape. I want nothing to do with any part of Lily or her world.”  His _aunt_ was the one who knew this stranger?  That seemed peculiar.  Typically, it was Uncle Vernon’s friends that would come and take him, not Aunt Petunia’s. 

 

“Seeing as you are raising a magical child, that notion is rather pointless.  Always a pleasure, Petunia.” The stranger, Severus if he was to be believed, sounded anything  _ but _ pleased.  There was an oddness now to his tone that Freak had no idea how to identify.  It wasn’t a tone ever used when discussing him or matters that revolved around him.

 

“Remove yourself from my house at once!” She shrieked, ignoring both his response and Dudley whining about the lack of leftover cake. 

 

“Of course, Tunie.” Now Severus sounded mocking and Freak trembled just a hair at just how his Aunt or Uncle might respond to that, even if he was one of his Aunts acquaintances.   It was obvious they weren’t friends like most of Uncle’s hosts, but they did know each other. The hostility was clear. “I will leave once all of his things have been brought to me so that we may depart.”

 

Freak wanted to look, wanted to see what was going on, but he knew better.  It didn’t seem like it was a typical trade off as Vernon didn’t seem to want to let him go with this man.  He wanted to frown, wanted to scream to just let him be for once, but the desire was fleeting and he continued to stare at the hole in his shoe where his toe was peaking out. 

 

Vernon sounded gleeful. “Not to worry, Pet. I've already informed him that the boy will be going nowhere.”  There was shuffling, it sounded to Freak like she might be pacing in front of the fireplace.

 

“You would take him immediately?” Petunia ignored her husband like she did with her son.

 

“Yes.”

 

She let out a pleased sound and he could hear her run up the stairs. Vernon let out a grunt of disapproval, but did not contradict his wife.  Freak tried to regulate his breathing, but he couldn’t stop it from picking up just a hair. He was apparently being sent away with this stranger, who seemed to be both better and far worse than any other client before.

 

“Will you be bringing the boy back here before the school term begins?”  Freak could hear the hidden question Vernon was truly asking and mentally begged the stranger to say no.  He didn’t want to deal with Uncle Vernon now, he just couldn’t.

 

Freak risked an extremely quick glance at the person sent to collect him. The man had a black shirt on as well as the trousers and boots and was sneering distastefully at Uncle Vernon.  Freak quickly dropped his eyes immediately back down before his Uncle saw him looking up. “The Headmaster has asked me to ensure the boy makes it to the train, so he will stay with me until school begins.”

 

Harry could hear a slight change in the man’s tone that indicated a minor lie, and he wondered which part of the man’s statement was the lie.  

 

“Well, Boy, guess we'll see you again end of next June.” Vernon leaned over then and hissed into the boy’s ear. “I'll have a gift waiting for you, little freak.”  His breath was sour with the beer he had consumed immediately upon arrival from work and Freak wished he could plug his nose from the nasty smell and focused on the time frame.

 

End of next June?  

 

It was only the end of July right now.  That was eleven months away.

 

He had never been given to someone for longer than a month.  This was nearly a year! Freak barely suppressed the shudder that wanted to crawl down his spine and nodded obediently instead. “Yessir.” He whispered.  Only years of training kept him from flinching away.

 

He didn't see his new host watching him, this underfed, trembling child, shrinking under the fat man's whispered words. He didn't see, because Freak never lifted his eyes higher than waist level around another person, and that was only if they wanted to fuck his face. 

 

Freak knew his place. He couldn't forget it, he wasn’t allowed to forget it.

 

No matter how badly he wanted to.

 

His aunt reappeared with a small cardboard box. “This is what he came with. He can pack the rest from his room.” She dropped the box into his arms and he immediately fled the living room to obey, terrified at what the meaning of his aunts words could be.  He heard his uncle tromp into the kitchen and scurried faster, not wanting to draw his attention or ire. He heard his aunt say something to the dark man, but couldn’t make out what she was saying with his head inside the cupboard and his inward sigh was one of resignation.  

 

The only things from his cupboard he wanted was his blanket and the one other set of clothing he owned.  He had asked once if he could have a nice set of clothing to wear when guests came, but the result of his question ensured that he never asked for anything ever again.  Freaks didn’t need nice clothing, even around guests, because if a guest wanted to see him, it would be while he was naked and performing his duties. He didn’t question the logic of him opening the door for guests as he was required to wear clothing in case the person at the door wasn’t there for him.  

 

He had learned his lesson long ago to never ask questions.  

 

He stepped out of his cupboard and set the box by the front door to wait obediently for the man to take him away.  Freak only hoped that this Severus bloke was easy to please. Everything else he could handle, but he could still feel the fissures in his anal cavity splitting and cracking every time he took a step. He knew it was fruitless to hope, but he just wanted one day where he wasn't in pain. 

 

~~*~*~~

 

“You will stay here with me until school begins, Mr. Potter.” 

 

It took every ounce of self-control to keep his swirling stomach from hurling its acidic contents all over the entryway stonework. He had no idea what on earth just happened, but if he never felt that strange pulling sucking feeling all over his body again, he would be very happy. 

 

He’d almost take Vernon over that horrible feeling.

 

He was silently lead into the house and up a curved staircase and into a large bedroom.

 

Sir placed the small cardboard box containing all of Freak's worldly possessions on the table. He nodded, eyeing the simply decorated room with suspicion. The four poster bed was elegantly carved and the plush blankets that adorned the bed appeared to be soft as clouds. 

 

Freak knew his place.

 

He did not get plush beds and soft blankets. No, he was to sleep where unwanted things were kept. His eyes darted from the floor to the room to look around, trying to suss out Sir's true intentions with this room. He knew this was a test, he had spent the last 10 years identifying them in every single situation he'd ever encountered, and he was determined not to fail this test. If he did well, then perhaps he will have earned the right to the bed.

 

He risked a quick glance up, knowing with his limited vision there was only so much he would see. The man who had taken him was tall and skinny, with a hooked nosed and shoulder length black hair.  He was still standing there, looking fierce and unhappy as he looked around the room. Freak knew it was because of him and flinched minutely when his host suddenly looked down and locked eyes with him. 

 

Oh he was dead.  He was absolutely dead.  He looked at a normal person as if he were one, as if he weren’t a freak.  That was the one action that would anger Uncle or his friends the most and Freak had learned quickly the fastest way to appease the anger.

 

Be polite, voice appreciation, show contrition, and placate angry adult. 

 

“You are very generous, Sir.  It is more than I deserve.” He recited, obediently bowing his head at the man and kept his eyes lowered once again. Freaks do not deserve to look at other people, he reminded himself.  He was lucky enough that he hadn’t been slapped yet for his misstep.

 

He wished he could ask about his duties, but he had already made one grievous blunder that had so far gone unpunished.  He absolutely did not deserve to ask for the luxury of knowing exactly what his duties would be while staying here, and he forced himself to stay quiet and not ask any undeserved questions, and would accept his punishments unflinchingly.  

 

Freak knew his place, as much as he hated it.

 

His place was to keep the members of the house fed and happy, from cleaning the house to allowing himself to be used for another’s pleasure if they so desired. His place was not in a large room with soft, comfortable bedding. 

 

He just had to wait to either be dismissed from Sir's presence, or for him to leave so Freak could find his real room.  He knew the consequences for bringing any notice to himself and would not give this strange man any reason to enact those punishments. 

 

He felt pride at keeping his body from flinching when the man suddenly spoke.  “We will be going to Diagon Alley for your school supplies in the morning after breakfast. Breakfast is at 7:30. Do not be late.”

 

Freak nodded, filing the time and information away for his planning later. He may not know what Diagon Alley was, but he knew breakfast and how to prepare it.  He made a mental note to find the kitchen as well once his host was retired for the evening. 

 

Sir gave a small sigh.  “What would you like for dinner?” 

 

The voice sounded bored, but he wasn’t fooled and Freak immediately shook his head no.  Another trap, he knew, and this one was easy to spot. 

 

He missed the concerned expression Sir wore.  Freak would try to never purposefully give his host a reason to punish him, and he had already broken the do not look rule without punishment, so he kept his gaze fixed on the floor until commanded to do otherwise in an effort to not appear ungrateful for the merciful kindness. 

 

Another small sigh escaped from the man. “Bathroom is across the hall. Please use it to prepare for bed. I will see you in the morning.” Footsteps carried his host away and Freak listened for the sound of the door closing, signalling he could finally relax. 

 

He crept stealthily down the hall, looking through each unlocked doorway. He found a study with a table full of weird and strange objects in glass jars. He found the bathroom. The only closet he found was the coat closet next to the front door and it was too full for him to fit inside. 

 

The kitchen was similar to the one at home, and he immediately felt more at ease. He examined the ingredients in the fridge and planned the breakfast he would prepare. The door in the kitchen proved to be a pantry, and under the bottom shelf was a space he could fit in easily, even with his box. 

 

Moving quickly and silently, he retrieved his box and looked sadly at the monster sized, comfortable looking bed before pushing aside the feeling of want and making his way back to the pantry space.  He slid the box into the space so that he could still curl up underneath and laid his blanket on the floor. 

 

Resigned that he was where he belonged, he padded silently back down the hall to follow his host’s instructions and used the bathroom, taking care to make sure every single centimeter of his skin was scrubbed and cleaned and every tooth was shiny and flossed as was his habit every night.  

 

Back in the kitchen, he followed the rules from home and stripped naked quickly. Freak was to always be ready for his Uncle and his uncles “friends” when he was in his room, and he was safer to assume the rules were the same here.  He folded his clothing carefully and placed the pile on one end of the blanket to use as a pillow and curled up on top of his blanket. 

 

Freak barely had any time to think about when to wake up before he was asleep.

 

~~*~*~~

 

Blinding light woke Freak up abruptly and he blinked blearily.  “What in the...?” A gruff voice had him sitting up so fast he hit his head hard on the bottom of the shelf.

 

His host was awake and he sounded angry. 

 

Freak was not doing his job correctly if his host was angry. 

 

If his host was already in the kitchen, that meant he had overslept, thus ruining today's schedule, and thus must be punished.  He swallowed hard. His only hope is that he can relax the man enough to maybe forget his anger. It worked once before, on one of his hosts last year.  

 

Be polite, voice appreciation, show contrition, and placate angry adult.

 

Sliding out from under the shelf, Freak prepared himself mentally to ease the man’s anger. He rolled to his knees and crept forward until he was in front of his host, his hands coming up to rest on the older man’s thighs.  He felt the man jump back at the contact and dislodge himself from Freak's hands. 

 

“What in the seven hells are you doing?” 

 

Freak was surprised at the disgusted tone from his current guardian.  He had never had that reaction from a host before and kept his gaze fixed cock level when he hoarsely replied, hoping to successfully assure the man he was safe from his teeth or being told on. “I am very good, Sir. Uncle started my training when I very small.  You don’t have to worry about me hurting you.” He mentally begged the stranger to accept his offer, to accept it in place of the beating Freak was certain was about to come.

 

The silence went on so long, Freak briefly forgot his place and looked up. Even with his poor eyesight, he could see the naked horror in the black eyes and he reeled back hard against the pantry wall when he realized he had dared to look into his host’s eyes.  He lay there cowering under the shelf. He held back his pleas for forgiveness for looking, experience telling him it would be futile, but was unable to keep in the whimper of fear. 

 

“Mr. Potter, why are you sleeping in here without any clothing on?” That was definitely anger he was hearing and Freak's stomach sank.  This had to be a new record for how quickly he had managed to displease someone. His body remained huddled, trembling violently as he laid there waiting for the blows to land. 

 

“Harry.”  The voice was quite close to his ear and his trembling grew even stronger. “Was there something wrong with your room?” 

 

This froze his trembling and he forced himself answer as expected, hating himself as he said it. “Freak knows his place, Sir.”

 

He heard the sound of an unidentifiable emotion escape from the adult crouching next to him. “Come out and get dressed.” 

 

The effect of the order was immediate on his well trained mind. Freak instantly shot out of the pantry and pulled his jeans on and the ratty shirt over his head, his eyes fixed resolutely at Sir’s bare toes.

 

A large hand appeared near his face and he whimpered, flinching away hard, before freezing in horror.  He couldn’t help the gasping whispered apologies. “Won’t move again, won’t make any more noise.” 

 

“You are a child, you are supposed to make move around and make noise.”  Sir was kneeling on a single knee next to Freak, his tone level and calm, and Freak squeezed his eyes shut.  “I will never lay a hand of violence against you. I merely wish to return you to your room. Will that be acceptable?”

 

Freak nodded obediently, his stomach twisting at the question.  Many of those who had paid for him had been cruel enough to offer the illusion of choice, and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought that this man was going to be the same way.  He didn’t dare hope, he couldn’t hope. 

 

Hope was too dangerous. 

 

The pantry door was closed after a long moment and after whatever the man was holding was set on the counter, Freak followed him to the room he had been shown the evening before. He automatically moved to the bed and knelt on it, toes hanging over the edge, head still bowed, back to the door. The bed dipped as Sir sat next to him. 

 

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, can you do that Harry?”  The tone was the softest he had heart yet from the man, and he gave a tiny shudder at the sound.  Nothing ever good followed that tone. Of course, nothing good ever followed any tone.

 

Freak gave a quick nod. He wasn't going to mess this up, too. 

 

“For as long as you are in my home, this is your room. This is your bed. I expect you to sleep here from now on, until you go to Hogwarts.” Sir’s tone was oddly flat through the softness and Freak squeezed his eyes shut.  He was failing miserably at making his host happy, and Uncle Vernon would have the most horrendous punishment waiting for displeasing him once he was returned. And what the devil was a ‘hogwarts’?

 

Sir was silent, as if expecting a response.  “Yessir.” Freak managed to squeeze passed his closing throat.  Fingers brushed through the tangled mess on his head and he flinched, waiting for a sharp tug yanking hair from his scalp or his head to be yanked down and ground into the bed submissively. 

 

But neither happened and when the fingers kept moving, he trembled again at the anticipation of pain.  The fingers gently untangled a knot in his curls and he couldn't hold back his question any longer. “Sir, why do you keep calling me Mr. Potter or Harry?”

 

The man was so quiet, Freak was wondering if he was even breathing.  “It is your name, is it not? What else would I call you?”

 

This was not an answer Freak was anticipating and he looked directly at his host in obvious bewilderment.  When the other man blinked, he remembered his place and dropped his head so hard his chin hit his chest and his teeth clashed together painfully as he schooled his face back to its required passive blankness. “I’m called either Boy or Freak, Sir.”

 

This seemed to surprise the man, because he made that same strange noise as he had in the kitchen.  “What do your teachers at school call you?”

 

Freak stayed silent, eyes fixed on his toes.  He was not about to break Uncle’s absolute number one, unbreakable rule.  

 

Freak’s silence is all that exists between life and death for him.  Uncle Vernon liked to show him the little pistol he owned just for the purpose of eradicating any proof of his existence.  Freak knew to keep his mouth shut. 

 

“Oh merlin, you’ve never been to school.  And you don’t even know your own....” His voice trailed off and Freak blinked in surprise.

 

Apparently, he didn’t need to say anything.  He wondered how the man knew without him saying anything and why he sounded so upset about this.  Freaks simply were not fit to be around normal people and weren’t smart enough to have school wasted on them. 

 

“Your name is Harry James Potter.”  Freak rolled the words through his mind, and a tiny smile broke through his terror.  He had a name now, and that seemed bigger and far more important than something as fleeting as fear.  “I will only call you Harry, or Mr. Potter.” The man’s tone was stern, yet was one he had never quite heard from anyone before, and Freak found an odd sort of comfort to the sound.  “And I am going to require that you make an effort to look at me when I speak to you or when you speak to me.”

 

He was promising to use a proper name for Freak?  He was insisting that Freak look at him as if he were not a freak but in fact were a normal boy?  Freak - or maybe he could be Harry - immediately fixed his eyes onto Sir’s chin, shaking like a leaf.  

 

Perhaps a little bit of hope was okay. 

 

Just this once. 

 

“Acceptable.”  The chin bobbed as the man nodded in approval.  “I am going to ask you a question, and trust that you will answer it honestly.”  

 

He nodded quickly again.  He could answer questions, so long as they did not require him to disclose the goings on he was forbidden to disclose.

 

He allowed his eyes to flick up briefly to take in the man’s expression.  This Severus bloke seemed to care an awful lot, if his pinched face was any proof. So perhaps, if Uncle were wrong about his name, then Uncle could be wrong about no one caring about him.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

This was a question Freak - no, he  _ was _ Harry - was again not anticipating, and for the first time in as long as he can remember, he made the conscious choice to forget his place and he looked just a few inches higher, directly into his hosts eyes, his own wide in fear and said “yes.”  His eyes slammed shut and he forgot to breath, tensing up waiting for punishment for using an action reserved for normal people. 

 

“I'm sure you are.”  That gentle tone was back.  “I’m going to assume that since you didn’t even know your name, no one ever told you about you being a wizard?”

 

A second time purposefully forgetting his place, Vernon would beat him unconscious if he were here because Freak - no,  _ Harry  _ \- dared open his eyes and speak as if he were a person.  “No one tells me about anything, Sir, and I know better than to ask.”

 

This time, he forced his eyes to stay open and focused on his host as requested and the anxiety of it sent his body into violent tremors, but all he could see was the blurred outline of the small smile that his host was giving him.   “Very well, I will explain as breakfast is being prepared.”

 

Finally, he was back on familiar ground again.  He had no idea how to handle gentle words and questions he’s required to answer and Freak -  _ HARRY _ \- jumped at the chance to complete his tasks. “Yessir.”  As they reached the kitchen, he darted over and pulled a chair out.  “What would you like for breakfast, Sir?”

 

Instead of the man responding, Fre - Harry found himself being gently picked up under his arms and placed on the chair he had pulled out.  He hesitantly looked at Sir’s nose this time and blinked at another smile directed at  _ him _ , the freak. “What would  _ you _ like, Harry?”

 

He decided to take a very large gamble and try and do the opposite of whatever his uncle had beaten into him, and he was going to start with breakfast.  

 

According to Uncle Vernon, he was not allowed to be picky and choose food to eat, he was to be grateful for whatever he was given.  With this thought in mind, he frowned and cocked his head, blinking slowly as he realized he had no idea what sorts of things he might like to eat.  “I don’t know, sir. I’ve never been asked.”

 

It was Sir’s turn to blink in surprise.  “Alright. Would you like pancakes or eggs and potatoes?”  That choice required careful thought. He wanted to ask for both.  He’s never had either. His panic must have bled onto his face because Sir continued talking.  “Perhaps we should have both, hm?” An eyebrow quirked up questioningly. 

 

And he made his first  _ real _ choice.  “I would like both, please, Mr. Severus Sir.”

 

“Of course.  And you may call me Professor Snape or simply Professor.  I will be your potions instructor once you reach Hogwarts in September.”  He shot a little smile over to Harry who was watching him with wide eyes. “Tilly!”  

 

Harry shrieked in alarm when a weird little creature with floppy ears materialized with a crack.  “Yes, Master Snape?”

 

“Breakfast for Master Potter and myself, if you will.”  Harry couldn’t move, he could barely breath as he stared at the strange tiny creature.  Who or what was  _ that _ ?  “Harry would like pancakes, eggs, and potatoes.  I would like my usual. And if you could also make some sausages and bacon for the table, that will be all.”

 

“Yes, Master Snape!”  With another crack, the weird little creature disappeared. 

 

Stunned silence filled the room, Harry still staring where the house elf had been.

 

A snort that hid laughter brought his wide eyes over to the professor.  “That was a house elf.” The professor explained matter-of-factly. “She resides at Malfoy Manor during the school year, but she comes back to me whenever I am home.”

 

He could scarcely wrap his mind around everything.  He pressed his lips tightly together against the forbidden m-word that was threatening to escape.  Then he remembered that Uncle wasn’t here and that it seemed he was free to ask and say whatever he wanted.  

 

If Uncle Vernon didn’t want him to say the word, then he would say it as often as he wanted now.

 

“Magic?”

 

“Yes.”  

 

The silence this time was more at ease as Harry thought about which of his many questions he wanted to ask first.  “How do you know that  _ I _ have magic?”  His question is scarcely audible through his tremoring. 

 

The professor’s fingers steepled and he looked like he was struggling to answer.  Finally, he fixed Harry with a strangely gentle look. “Tell me, Harry. Have you ever done something you thought was impossible?”

 

His answer was immediate, and the anxiety from the fear of speaking was fading with each moment spent conversing with his host.  “Yessir. Many times. Uncle started everything when Dudley was 4 and my hair grew from bald to my shoulders. Aunt Petunia doesn’t like my hair.”

 

“When Dudley was 4?”  Professor Snape frowned.  “Do you know how old you are?”

 

Harry shrugged, his shirt slipping so his shoulder was exposed.  “No sir. But I pretend Dudley and I have the same birthday. He turned eleven on 23 June.”  He knew this because every year he has to make sure Dudley’s birthday was  _ better _ than the year before. 

 

He hated Dudley with a passion.

 

“Your birthday is 31 July.  You turned eleven yesterday.”

 

He knew he was resembling a fish, but he couldn’t help it.  His brain had officially short circuited from the overload of kindness he’d never experienced before.  He wasn’t required to service his host, or clean his house, or wait on him hand and foot. 

 

Instead, he was required to sleep in a real bed, he was expected to look at and speak to his host, there were house elves that did the cooking and chores and apparently very much enjoyed it, and not only did the man give him his  _ name _ , now he was being told his  _ birthday _ .  

 

When he could speak, his voice quivered from emotion and reverence.  The tears welling spilled unbidden, and he swiped at his cheeks absently, a slow grin spreading.  “This is the best day I’ve ever had, sir.”

 

Their breakfasts popped onto the table before Professor Snape could answer and Harry once again found himself unable to move, this time staring at the plate loaded with even more food than Dudley would eat on his hungriest days.  When it was apparent that Harry wasn’t going to start eating, Professor Snape caught his eye and quirked a half smile. “You don’t need permission to eat, Harry.”

 

Harry swallowed, ashamed.  “I…” He couldn’t push the words out past the years of conditioning and snapped his jaw shut.  Even his promise to himself to do the opposite of whatever Vernon had taught him wasn’t enough to get him to speak.  

 

But the dark eyes of his host stayed calm and open, inviting him to speak his mind.  He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut to try again. A timid, halting whisper was all he could manage.  “I can’t eat everything. It’s too much. I'll be sick.” 

 

He was shaking from anxiety and fear and the memories of the last time he had asked Uncle Vernon for just one more bite of food please and he had ended up spending the rest of the day being force fed even after he threw up again and again.  

 

By the time he finished speaking he was nearly gasping he was breathing so hard.  He had just willfully spoken back to one of his betters, and he was surely in for it now.    
  
Professor Snape once again surprised Harry, though the shock was lessening as the morning progressed, when he chuckled and motioned to the plate.  “Eat only what you want. Whatever is left on your plate will be fed to Mrs. Wetherby’s chickens next door.”

 

“Chickens?”  His panic halted in its tracks, and he blinked at the candid response.  “Her chickens will eat what I don’t? I won't be wasting anything?” He found himself grinning again.

 

“Her chickens will be thrilled, believe me. Nothing will go to waste.”  Amusement colored the older man’s tone and satisfied with the answer, Harry finally took a bite of the potato.  “And I get fresh eggs out of the bargain. I consider it a more than fair trade.”

 

The combination of crispy, hot outside mixed with the fluffy insides threatened to overload his taste buds and he couldn’t help the gasp of joy that escaped.  The desire to scarf the whole plate as fast as he’d seen Dudley eat was easily overwhelmed by the desire to eat slowly, savoring each bite and experiencing the first food he had consumed other than burnt toast and soggy cereal or Dudley’s scraps of dinner that were seldom left behind or the nearly inedible food Mrs Figg would give him on the rare occasion she babysat him.  Harry eyed the fluffy pancakes suspiciously and poked at the melting pat of butter.

 

“Professor Snape?  What is Diagon Alley?”  He carefully tore a piece of pancake off with his fork and popped it in his mouth.   

 

Professor Snape swallowed the bite of bacon and appeared to be mulling over what to say.  “It is where we will buy everything you need for school. It’s like a very wide sidewalk with shops lining both sides of it.”

 

Harry had never tasted anything so soft and warm and sweet before as a pancake and he couldn’t get enough of it.  He slowly chewed the bite of sticky pancake as he compared this new information to something familiar. “Like a strip mall?”

 

A blink.  “I suppose that is an accurate comparison.  It is similar to a strip mall, which only wizards and witches can visit.”

 

He frowned again and his tongue poked out as he carefully cut another bite of pancake and speared it.  “And this school? Is that what a hogwarts is?” The small bite disappeared into his mouth and he chewed happily. 

 

“Yes.  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”  Professor Snape replied, popping a grape into his mouth.  

 

Harry watched the purple fruit with envy, wondering if they tasted as sweet as they looked.  

 

“Harry, if you want something, I expect you to ask.”  The deep voice was stern, yet somehow calming to the damaged boy. 

 

Harry stared at the man in stunned silence.  How had he known what Harry was wanting? He blinked before adding another bullet point to his mental list of unexpected rules.  Apparently not only was it okay if he asked an occasional question for information, the man actually expected him to ask for things he  _ wanted _ .

 

That realization over everything else fortified his courage. 

 

“Sir, could I try some of your fruit please?”  His request was quiet, and directed at his professor’s chin, but he managed to force the words to be audible.  Wordlessly, a trio of grapes, a quarter of the banana, and three slices of apple floated from Professor Snape’s plate to his own, and he couldn’t help the gasp of amazement as he watched.  “Thank you, Sir.”

 

“You are very welcome, Harry.  If you like them, I’ll have Tilly bring you more.”

 

~~*~*~~

 

Apparation was again as horrible as Diagon Alley was wonderful, though it was perhaps a tad bit difficult to navigate with extremely limited vision.  He stood wearing newly transfigured clothing to match the stern profesor next to him, and he wished - not for the first time - that his eyesight was better because he was sure that everything was even more amazing to those who could properly see.

 

“Harry, are you struggling with your vision?”

 

Harry jumped a little at the sudden question and fixed his blurry gaze on his professor.  “No sir. Not any more than usual.”

 

He shivered when Severus’ dark eyes narrowed.  “Allow me to clarify. Can you make out any details around you?”

 

Harry shook his head.  “No sir. Just shape with blurs of colors.  Things that are closer are okay.” He pointed over at the Owl Emporium where a row of blobs waved in the breeze.  “I know those are birds in cages.” 

 

“And your relatives never took you in for glasses?”

 

“Why would I have needed glasses?  They never allowed me to look at anyone and all my chores and duties don’t require me to see well.”   He tilted his head when he heard a low growl from his escort. The question came out almost before he finished thinking it.  “Are you angry sir?”

 

“At your abominable relatives, yes.  At you, of course not.” Harry hunched his shoulders but grinned at the fierce protectiveness he heard in Severus’ tone.  “May I cast a spell on you? It will help correct your eyesight enough to make it through the day.”

 

His eyes widen in shock and amazement.  Just the idea of a single day of perfect vision sounded like more than a dream come true.  “Will it hurt?” Not that it would matter much to him if it did, he would still agree. He simply wanted to know what sort of pain to expect.  He was surprised when the answer was no.

 

“You might trip as you are getting used to your new vision, but it is painless to correct.”  Severus answered mildly, holding his ebony wand loosely and Harry nodded in acceptance.

 

“Okay.”

 

He gasped when after a murmured spell later his vision twisted and sharpened until everything came into near perfect focus.  “Everything is so small!” He whispered, and Severus snorted. 

 

“That would be your vision as it should be.”

 

“Professor, I can read the letters on that sign, even!”  Harry pointed towards the quidditch shop and spelled out the name.  “I don’t know those words, though.”

 

“Quality Quidditch Supplies.”

 

“What is quidditch?”  The question came out almost before Harry had time to think it, and he flinched back automatically when a large hand came down to rest on his shoulder and he felt sudden shame that he had been scared of a man who had never hurt him, who had in fact promised to never hurt him.

 

The professor didn’t comment on the flinch, however, and kept his hand on Harry’s shoulder as a comforting warmth.  “Quidditch is a game played on broomsticks. If you wish, we can look for the book called Quidditch Through the Ages in Flourish & Blotts.  It will have how to play the game as well as its history and the teams.”

 

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel.  Should he feel worried that books are being offered freely and seemingly without strings?  Should he feel thankful and grateful he’s being offered such a marvelous gift as a book? Or should he be preparing himself for a return to what he has always known and assume that the offer is a trap designed to ensnare him specifically?  

 

Had he willingly been giving his host tools to torment him with?

 

“Harry?”  Severus’ baritone sounded far too close and he shrieked as he flailed back, slamming his back against the wall of a shop.  

 

“I’m sorry!”  He gasped out, hands halfway raising before he schools himself and stands stiffly with his eyes fixed on the ground.  He really messed up this time. 

 

A patient breath that was more of a simple exhale than a sigh eased his spine from its ridged position.  That sigh did not belong to an angry man, Harry knew at least that much for certain. What he was less sure on was what the sigh  _ actually _ meant.  He kept his gaze locked downwards until he realized the man would not address him until he looked up as was polite, or so Severus told him. 

 

Swallowing hard, and praying that he was making the right decision, Harry lifted his heavy eyes slowly from the cobblestones of the alley to trail along the black form of his professor until he could see the crooked nose and he cautiously met the dark eyes with his own. 

 

The stern look that always rested on the man's face melted away at Harry’s gaze and his eyes softened with something Harry didn’t quite recognize.  “Thank you for looking at me when I am speaking to you. I am pleased you remembered.”

 

Of course he remembered!  He possessed a very good memory, thank you very much.  Harry nearly felt insulted when the words actually said caught up to him.  Please with him? Was that what the change in his eyes meant? Harry felt his spine stiffen again, yet this time it was from personal pride instead of fear and he marveled at the feeling.  No one has ever expressed pride in him before.

 

“Now, what reason do you have to be sorry?”  Severus asked and Harry’s eyes dropped. A throat cleared, and his eyes jumped again and he smiled sheepishly.

 

“I was sorry for asking a question, but…”  Harry tilted his head as a connection formed in the dissonance between how he was treated before and how he’s being treated now - and how it was lining up with how he had always  _ wished _ to be treated.  He found it rather easy to admit, “but I shouldn’t be.  Should I?”

 

The pleased look spread to the professor’s mouth and Harry was stunned to see a small grin aimed down at him.  “You should never be afraid to ask a question. Asking questions is how we learn and expand our minds and our worldview.”

 

He had never thought of it that way before.  And as he thought about it, he felt something dark boiling deep inside his belly and he dropped his gaze back to the ground.  “Uncle did more than...violate my body and my freedom.” Harry whispered, and then swallowed hard before his eyes met Severus’ once again and he knew the anger he was feeling was boiling inside them.  “He tried to keep me small. Limited. Stupid.  _ Satisfied _ .”  He bit the last word out with such vitriol he nearly spat.

 

“But he won’t succeed, will he Harry?”  

 

He reveled in the intense stare coming from his professor, allowing it to ground him and keep the darkness at bay.  “No.” Harry bit out, clenching his fists and breathing deeply in an effort to keep himself from exploding from his anger or bursting into tears.  “He’s already lost. I  _ know _ I’m better than he treated me.  I just have to remember. I mean, I let you give me better eyesight without thinking about it.  That’s good, right?”

 

“That was indeed good, Harry.  A step in the right direction, in fact.”

 

He smiled widely and pushed away from the wall, determined to not allow Vernon to control his life any longer.  “Where are we going first?”

 

“To get my potions order in before the masses come.”  He muttered, and Harry giggled at his exaggerated grumpiness.  “Would you like to learn how to choose potion ingredients?”

 

Quidditch quite forgotten, Harry grasped the hand offered tightly and trotted along beside the stern potion’s professor, eager to learn something new.  Before the entered the store, however, they were stopped by a thin, happy voice crying out, “Uncle Sev!”

 

They came to a stop, and Harry found himself pressing full body against the back of the professors legs in an effort to avoid collision with the blond blur rushing at them.  The professor made a soft grunt at the impact of the strange boy and held him out at arms length. 

 

“Hello, Draco.  Might I remind you about the need for decorum in public areas?”  Professor Snape sounded amused, and Harry chanced a look around him to see a boy about his age beaming up at his professor.

 

“I was shopping with Mother, and I saw you, and she said I could say hello!”  Draco’s words were flying out almost faster than Harry could hear them and he let out a cry when the excited boy noticed him and darted around Severus to thrust a hand out at him.  “My name is Draco Malfoy.”

 

Harry froze, staring at it in bewilderment.  He had no idea how to react in this situation.  Uncle Vernon made sure Harry knew nothing about interacting socially with others his age, and he could feel himself start to hyperventilate when he saw the stormy frown start to cross Draco’s mouth.  

 

Professor Snape came to his rescue when he asked him what was wrong.

 

He responded in his flat voice with the truth.  “Uncle Vernon says the freak isn’t allowed to have friends.  I don’t know what to do.”

 

Draco’s eyes widen in confusion and alarm, and Harry mustered a tiny smile at the sight.  Someone else obviously thought Uncle Vernon was wrong.

 

“Ah, but I know now that  _ you _ know your Uncle Vernon is incorrect about nearly everything, wouldn’t you agree?  All you need to do is take his hand with your own.” An arched eyebrow was aimed at him and he nodded sharply at the sight of it.  His eyes flicked to the offered hand, still out and starting to tremble a bit from being raised for so long. 

 

Yes, Uncle Vernon  _ was _ wrong.   

 

He knew it, Professor Snape knew it, even Draco knew it.

 

And with an extremely shaky hand of his own, he reached out and snatched Draco’s offered one tightly until his knuckles turned white.  Draco looked a bit startled at the sudden almost frantic, harsh touch but after a terrifying moment, he smiled brightly at Harry who felt a bit of the anxiety in his stomach relax just a hair and he dropped the hand, afraid Draco would suddenly accuse Harry of tainting him with his freakishness.

 

But Draco just continued to smile at him and Harry found himself smiling back.  

 

He apparently just made a friend.

 

“Mother wanted to get our robes first.  May Harry come with us?” Draco asked, nearly jumping up and down in his excitement and Professor Snape immediately turned towards where he saw Narcissa waving from the door to Madam Malkin’s.  

 

“Of course, Draco.  If it is alright with Harry.”

 

“That is just fine with me, Professor sir.”  Harry said, eyes still wide and a grin forming rapidly.  He would go anywhere his new friend wanted, as long as the professor stayed with him the entire time.

 

~~*~*~~

 

After spending an hour in Slug and Jiggers learning how to identify the best of the ingredients required for the potion to correct Harry’s eyesight, Harry was more than ready to return back to Professor Snape’s home and be away from all the overwhelming distractions around him.  

 

He had already loaded up on his school robes, an entire new wardrobe that the professor and the two Malfoys all insisted he deserved to own, a wand all his own, his new veritable library of books that didn’t even include what was required for the first year curriculum - that was put separately in a rucksack, and all his supplies for various classes in a brand new trunk engraved with his name.  He was just waiting to pay for his potions ingredients before they could go back home.

 

He was almost glad for the horrible, pulling, twisting feeling apparation gave him because he knew a quiet house awaited him on the other end. 

 

After his stomach stopped attempting to repeat the action of jumping around with magic, he adjusted his coat and looked up at his host with wide eyes.  “Thank you again, sir, for today. I’ve never had a better day before in my life.”

 

“I surmised as much, Harry.”  The professor took Harry’s coat and hung the both up using magic, Harry gaping the entire time.  It had only been a day since he had been rescued, and he was still not used to other people having the same freaky powers he does.  

 

He followed the smirking professor down the hall and into the room he had seen the night before with all the jars of strange and weird things.  “You are going to assist me with your potion.”

 

His head cocked to the side.  “My potion? You mean for my eyes?”  Realization dawns as he speaks and he starts to shuffle from foot to foot in his excitement.  “You’re allowing me to help you?!”

 

“Of course.”  His professor’s voice was devoid of all surprise and shock, and was instead unwaveringly even.  “Contrary to what you have been taught to believe, you are indeed worth my time in teaching you lessons.  In this case, brewing a potion together.”

 

Harry swallows hard in an effort to keep himself from crying.  “Can you tell me about the potion, sir?”

 

A half smile lit up the normally almost scowling face.  “It’s a fairly complicated potion to brew, despite its short simmer time.  It requires a lot of precise and exact string to the degree of angle and adding of the ingredients to the millisecond.  What I require your assistance with is the chopping of the ingredients.”

 

“I’m very good at chopping.”  Harry exclaimed proudly. “It's just like cooking, Professor. And I've been at least helping with the cooking at the Dursleys since I could hold a knife.” 

 

Wordlessly, the ingredients were levitated over to the boy and organized with another spell.  “After you have put on your dragonhide gloves, you are going to chop the roots julian style.” 

 

Harry nodded briskly and set to work, the professor explaining the potion as they worked.  

 

“You will take the potion for seven days just before dinner.  The potion needs to be taken on a nearly empty stomach to complete the reaction, but you must then eat immediately after to keep your stomach from becoming upset.”  His worry must have bled onto his face because he was immediately reassured to not fear, Severus knew his potions well and would ensure that Harry experienced little to no discomfort.  

 

Before the true brewing began and Harry would have to become a silent observer, he suggested quietly that they label each bottle with a number or the day of the week so that he would know if he had taken it that day or not.  He squirmed when Severus looked at him impressed. 

 

“That is an excellent idea, Harry.  Do you know your numbers?” Harry nodded slowly. 

 

“I know the numbers 0-9.  I needed to know my numbers.”  He frowned a little. He needed to know his letters, too, but he hadn’t been taught them properly.

 

Despite the anger in his eyes, the professor just smiled and nodded pleasantly.  “Then why don’t you write and decorate the labels while I begin the brewing? It should only take about twenty minutes.”

 

Eagerly, the boy accepted the offered parchment and muggle pen and started doodling out the labels.  He couldn't wait to see clearly all the time!

 

~~*~*~~

 

Later that night, he lay in his plush, wonderful, marvelous bed wide awake.  He stared at the ceiling as long as he could manage before giving up on sleep and wandering off to the living room to look at the fire in hope that it would lull his mind to restfulness.  He came to an abrupt stop in the hall when he heard his host talking to someone he was calling Albus. 

 

Severus was telling this Albus all about Harry and what he had seen at the Dursleys, how he had been acting then and so far while at the professor’s house.  He mentioned how Harry hadn’t known his own name nor had he ever even been to school, how he had no idea about magic or even appropriate behaviour around other people due to the abuse. 

 

Harry felt himself shrinking down, extremely ashamed of himself.  He knew he should move from his spot or face discovery, but he found he simply couldn’t move.  When the man called Albus responded in anger and disbelief, Harry’s head flew up. He hadn’t expected that reaction from anyone and some of the shame lifted a bit.  

 

He really needed to start remembering that Vernon really was wrong and that Harry did deserve other’s consideration and care. 

 

He heard a pleading Albus beg in a wavering tone, “Severus, tell me he is still there with you.”

 

“As if I would have allowed anything else.”  Harry could hear the snapping snarl in his host’s voice and smiled a little, the shame fading more as the smile formed.  He hadn’t heard that tone in over 24 hours, but this time the tone is about his relatives and not him! “And I reported them as soon as I could. With any luck, they’ll both be in custody by now, if not already in the penitentiary.  That is why I am asking if you could please make sure Poppy is available now for an examination.”

 

Harry felt his eyes prickle and realized he was about to cry.  His professor and this absolute stranger are angry, yes, but not at him.  No, they’re angry  _ for _ him.  They’re angry at how  _ Harry  _ has been treated. So much so, that this Severus person had even gotten Vernon in trouble with the  _ police _ .  

 

Forgetting about the guest his host had, his feet moved without his permission and he found himself running, only to fling himself at Severus’ knees, wrapping his arms tight around the man and sobbing.

 

After a very long moment, he felt a large hand comb through his curls, soothing and gentle.  His tone, however, was fierce. “You will never go back to them, Harry. Never.”

 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes, his arms tightening even more.  “Really?” He choked out and Severus gently removed the arms from around his legs and turned around, dropping to his knees and pulling Harry into his chest.  His arms were strong around his back and Harry felt truly safe for the first time in his short life and he let out a little sigh through his sobs. He could easily become addicted to the feeling.

 

“We will work something out, Harry.”  Albus said from the fire, and Harry stared over the portions professor’s shoulder at the head in the flames in startled concern. 

 

“Professor Snape, sir.  There is a man in your fire.”  He wondered why his host looked like he was about to start laughing and felt himself frown petulantly and immediately fixed his face, praying his mistake was missed.  

 

“Yes, Harry.  It is a method of communication called ‘floo’, and the man’s head you see belongs to the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.”  Severus explained through his amused smirk. The smirk faded into a searching look. “Are you comfortable if he steps through the fire?”

 

Harry stepped back in alarm.  Not only did the fire contain talking heads, but it was also a portal to another room that apparently anyone could travel?  “S-step through?” He said hoarsely, fidgeting with his fingers until the cuticles started to bleed. 

 

He jumped when large, gentle hands grasped his, gently stopping his picking.  “Yes. He is in his office at the school, and he can say the location of the fireplace he wants to visit, and the powder he throws on the fire to make it harmless will send him to his destination.  In this case, us. And since he knows our password, the wards will let him through.”

 

Harry stood there silent for a long moment, comforted with the knowledge that one that to have a password to enter the house.  He had just one lasting fear, he simply needed the courage to voice it. He swallowed hard, and felt encouraged to speak at the unwavering eyes of his host.  “Is he like you, sir? Or like Uncle?” He finally asked, looking away in shame, hoping the man would understand his question. 

 

“I will never allow someone around you that could do harm to you like your Uncle and his  _ friends _ did.”  Severus said firmly, and Harry’s eyes snapped back to his, wide and wet with tears.  He has longed for years for someone to care about him, and now that the moment was here he’s finding himself crying an awful lot.  “The headmaster simply wants to meet you. He also can bring through Madam Pomfrey. She is the school’s mediwitch.” 

 

Harry opened his mouth to ask who or what a mediwitch was and closed it again just as fast.  However, his host saw the motion and nodded invitingly. He closed his eyes, and asked “sir, what is a mediwitch?”

 

He opened one eye to see an approving smile on the man’s face and straightened up, a smile of his own quirking the corners of his lips.  The professor was  _ proud _ of him.  Proud of the freak!  “A mediwitch is similar to a nurse in the muggle world.  She would come and give you a check up, and see what we need to do to get you healthy and strong.”

 

He couldn’t help it.  His jaw dropped open and he gaped at Severus.  “Y-you want me to be  _ strong _ ?  You care if I’m  _ healthy _ ?”  To his utter shame and embarrassment, he collapsed onto the floor sobbing, burying his face into his arms as he curled in a ball and let the years of pain and torment and abuse slowly start to find an outlet of release.  

 

“Yes to both, Harry.  You deserve to be a healthy, happy little boy.”  He said softly, laying a hand gently between his shoulder blades.  Harry had never felt such a comforting thing as a hand gently rubbing at his back.  He knew how a hand could hurt, and marveled that it could also be used to make him feel warm inside.  “I need a verbal yes or no for the headmaster and Madam Pomfrey to come see you now or later.”

 

Oh, that’s right, he needed to make a decision.  Slowly, he nodded an affirmative and wiped at his eyes.  “Yes. Thank you for caring, sir.” He whispered, blinking back another wave of emotion.  One torrent of tears was enough for a long while, he decided. He wasn’t sure he would live through the shame of losing control yet again, and all in one day. 

 

However, there would be many more tears shed that night, mostly by three adults after the young boy had been examined, healed, and sent to bed in a potion induced dreamless slumber.

 

~~*~*~~

 

“C’mon, Harry!”  Draco tugged gently on his arm.  “Uncle Sev said we can go play! I want to show you my blocks.”

 

They were currently standing in the middle of the Malfoy’s receiving parlor, the adults caught in their conversation as they walked out of the room, and Harry kept his eyes fixed on his professor’s back until out of sight.  He felt a far cry more comfortable today than he had when they came for the first time last week.

 

He had had a full on panic attack at the absolute splendor and opulence of the manor their first visit the day after Diagon Alley, terrified he had only been brought here to clean or worse, and only Draco’s gently leading him outside to show him the gardens and quidditch pitch had calmed him enough for him to take a draught from Severus.  

 

He nearly grimaced at the week-old memory of such an emotional display.  They had waited the week for another visit to the manor itself in an effort help Harry become more accustomed to the three Malfoys through short, daily visits to either Spinner’s End or various restaurants in the area.  

 

Draco’s words then registered and he stepped back in alarm.  He suddenly felt like he had pushed the line enough; having a friend and playing with that friend’s  _ toys _ certainly wasn’t for a dirty freak like him.

 

“I’m not allowed.”  He said, automatically ducking his head.  He paused, tilted his head, and then frowned.  He was supposed to be remembering to do the opposite of what Vernon has told him, and Vernon was the one who told him he wasn’t allowed to play.  

 

He tried to remember what Severus had told him to say whenever asked to do something he wasn’t allowed to do before.  “I mean, I don’t know how to play with blocks.” He admitted in a barely audible whisper, waiting for something bad to happen.  He wasn’t sure what  _ could _ happen at this point but his prior life experience told him to expect something horrible.  

 

What happened however was that Draco simply grinned at him and tugged again on his arm.  “Then I’ll teach you. Come on!” He said with a touch of impatience at the end, and that was that. 

 

As it turned out, wooden blocks were extremely simple to play with.  He felt a little silly though, when every time he’d get a third block, the first two had already fallen apart.  Draco just smiled at him and pointed out that if he built a stronger base, the other blocks would work better. Harry waited for the jeering, for the scornful laughter, but it never came.  Draco just sat there building his own tall tower of blocks. 

 

He looked around the room and caught an eyeful of some rather large creatures that looked almost like dinosaurs.  “Draco?” Harry whispered nervously. “Could we also play with those dinosaur animals?”

 

“Dinosaur?”  He repeated as he followed Harry’s line of sight, confused for only a moment before his face cleared.  “Oh, you mean the dragons. Sure! We can work together and build a giant castle to keep out the dragons.  

 

“T...t-ogether?”  Harry couldn’t quite grasp the idea.  “You want me to work with you? You aren’t afraid...afraid of me?”

 

“Afraid?”  Draco tilted his head, confused.  “Why the devil would I be afraid? You have some ridiculous notions, Harry.”  He said shaking his head and Harry just huffed a sigh. Sometimes, normal people just didn’t understand the plight of freaks.  

 

“What if I put a block on and it all collapses?”  Harry blurted out, suddenly desperately wanting Draco to understand like Professor Snape did.  

 

Draco shrugged and Harry wondered at the lack of annoyance in the other boy’s expression. “Then we build it back up.”

 

“You won’t hit me?”  The question was out before he could stop it and he flinched, hoping he hadn’t just given his new friend an idea.

 

There was a very long pause.  A long enough pause that Harry started to wonder just how much quicker Draco would be then Dudley.  But when Harry dared to look at Draco, he was startled to see the other eleven year old almost in tears.  

 

When Draco saw Harry looking at him, he quickly wiped his eyes and tried to laugh.  “I’ll never hit you, Harry.” He finally managed, and Harry could hear the promise in his words and chose to believe him for now. 

 

“Okay.”  He said simply, and because Uncle Vernon never allowed it, he smiled at the other boy.  He felt a jolt of happiness when Draco smiled back and realized he had performed a correct social cue.  Apparently, it really was okay to smile at people who knew you and who you knew in return. “So how do we build a castle?”  

 

Draco thrust two long blocks at him and nudged him in the direction of the large pile of scattered wood.  “Find all the very long blocks first.”

 

And thus began Harry’s first in depth lesson in how to play.

 

~~*~*~~

 

Harry wasn’t meaning to be eavesdropping on his professor and Mr. Malfoy’s conversation.  He really wanted to go through and get some water, but he felt frozen in fear from what might happen if he dared to interrupt.  He didn’t understand most of what was being discussed, but he also knew that his host would be angry that Harry was listening in on a conversation. 

 

But still, he couldn’t tear himself away to leave.

 

“It’s been nearly three weeks.  How did you manage to keep the muggle police from coming after you for Harry?”  Lucius asked in a breathy sort of voice that told Harry the man was surprised.

 

He could hear the smirk in the professor’s reply.  “When I called the dispatcher to report the Dursleys, I told them I was an old family friend and professor sent to take the boy for his supplies to attend the prestigious school he had been registered at since his birth.  Upon arrival, I discovered the abuse.”

 

“And they did not question why you stayed away so long?”  More of that surprise from Mr. Malfoy, and Harry wasn’t sure why.

 

“They did question me, as they should have.  I stated that I had fallen out of friendship for a time, and then the boy’s parents had passed away before an opportunity for reconciliation was had.  I had no knowledge of the boy’s lodgings until the day I was sent to fetch him. I then informed the man that I would be assuming the role of guardian until further notice.”  He heard the creak of the chair and surmised that the man had sat back. He could imagine the steepled fingered pose well and smiled at the image. 

 

He must have made a noise unconsciously because the two men fell silent and footsteps moved towards him.  He pondered briefly of running away out of sight, but stood swiftly and faced the doorway and looked up into Severus’ stern gaze.  “I wasn’t meaning to eavesdrop. I wanted some water, but you were talking and I…” 

 

He faltered and his voice trailed off.  Swallowing, he fought the urge to fidget.  

 

“You didn’t want to interrupt?”

 

It was always a relief when the man knew exactly what Harry couldn’t say out loud.  “I know I shouldn’t be afraid. I  _ know _ .”

 

“It’s only natural, Harry.  You’ve made enormous amounts of progress in your interactions with me and others, but you still have more to learn.  And we will take those steps together.” His tone turned dry and Harry stifled a giggle. “I know I’m still learning how to relate to other people.  Idiots, the lot.”

 

“Except me.”  He said  _ almost _ petulantly and Severus ruffled his hair. 

 

“Yes, you are an exception Harry.”

 

“Severus, should we continue our conversation later?”  Mr. Malfoy called from the couch and Harry giggled under his hands when Severus gave an exaggerated eye roll.  

 

He then wiggled in delight when the professor shook his head and directed him gently into the sitting room with the two men.  “This has to do with Harry and his life, and he deserves to have some say in it.”

 

“Quite right.”  The blond smiled at Harry, who smiled shyly back.  “Hello again, Mr. Potter.”

 

“Hello sir.”  Harry replied softly.  He tried to remember if it was polite or not to ask about a friend, especially this early in a conversation, and then decided he had been silent longer than necessary and blurted out,  “How is Draco?” 

 

“He has spoken of nothing but your visits with each other.  I must say, you have made quite the impression on him!”

 

“Is...Is that good?”

 

“It certainly is no easy feat, that’s for sure.  Draco is a very picky child.” Lucius snickered a bit and then schooled himself back to his aristocratic haughtiness.  Harry giggled at the sudden change and the blond man winked at him before turning to his professor. “Why only secure guardianship, then?  Why not full adoption?”

 

He couldn't help the sound that escaped at the word guardianship and he realized he must have made the noise earlier, too, when the professor first called himself Harry’s guardian.  “Harry?” Severus looked so concerned that Harry lept from the seat and rushed to hug the man. 

 

“Are you my guardian forever?”  He asked with hope so hot in his heart he knew it was written all over his face. 

 

“If you wish it, yes.”  He said simply, and Harry let out an involuntary whoop before slapping his hands over his mouth.  Regardless of everything else the man allowed Harry to do, yelling indoors was never going to be one of them.  “I’m sorry for shouting.” He whispered and then almost scowled when the two men laughed.

 

“It is understandable.”  The professor said though his snickering and adopting an exaggeratedly stern expression and a wagging finger.  “But just this once.”

 

Harry’s worry eased and he giggled again at that.  “You want to adopt me later? Why not now?” He repeated the other man’s question, and giggled again at the cross-eyed look the blond man gave him when Severus answered Harry and not Lucius.

 

“Harry, unfortunately the adoption process can take months if not years.  This way, you are at least guaranteed to stay with me and we can progress through the adoption during the school year.”

 

Harry nodded and mulled over the words.  He understood the gist of it, but wasn’t entire certain on one word.  He thought he knew what entailed, but he wanted to be absolutely sure.  “What exactly does adopt mean?”

 

Instantly, the man replied.  “It means that I will become your father, and you my son.”

 

Harry barely hesitated this time with his question.  He simply couldn’t find his sensibility in time. “Does that mean I will call you Father?  Like Draco does with Mr. Malfoy?”

 

Severus’ answer was steady and firm.  “You may if you wish.”

 

His eyes widened in shock at the positive answer.  His father? A guardian he could understand, but actually accepting Harry as a son?  His hope blurted out before he could reign it in. “May I call you Father now? Or do I have to wait?”

 

He marveled just a moment at the sudden tears in his guardian’s eyes.  “Harry, I would be honored. May I ask why you want to call me Father?”

 

That was the easiest question the professor had asked him yet.  “I trust you to take care of me, like Mr. Malfoy does for Draco.  You already saved me from hell, you’re teaching me how to respect myself, and you don’t make me feel bad for not knowing things everyone else does like me not knowing how to read.  Instead, you teach me and praise me for doing well. You’re everything I ever wished for whenever I wished for someone to find me and protect me.”

 

When long moments passed and still Severus didn’t look away from Harry or manage to voice an answer, Mr. Malfoy sighed and shook his head in only the longsuffering way an old friend can.  “I will see what I can do to expedite the process, Severus.”

 

~~*~*~~

 

“But what if no one likes me?”  Harry whispered, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs.  There were only two days left until the first of September and the train with all those students and potential new friends or enemies, and he was feeling overwhelmed by it all. 

 

“I already like you.”  Draco said matter-of-factly, as if that ended the matter.  In his mind, it probably did. But for Harry, he couldn't let it sit at that. 

 

“What if no one  _ else _ likes me, then?”  He asked hotly, and hunched down even further when Draco glared at him back. 

 

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”  His arms crossed, he learned right up to Harry until their noses were nearly touching.  “Hmm? You’re a great person!”

 

“I’m still getting used to that idea.”  Harry reminded him. “Before Father and your family, I had no one who cared at all about me.”

 

Instead of answering with words, Draco hopped off his bed and darted over to his desk to snatch up a stack of letters.  He thrust them at Harry before sitting next to him on the bed again.    
“I wrote to all my friends explaining that I had made a new friend who has no social skills due to his horrible caregivers, but that with all of their help, you will be up to their level in no time at all.”

 

Harry was floored.  “I’m not sure if I’m should be upset you told everyone I had a horrible childhood, or grateful you care enough about me to reach out like that.”

 

“Listen to their responses before you decide, okay?”  Draco excitedly unfolded the top one and cleared his throat, adopting a high pitched girly voice.  “‘Dearest Draco.’” He dropped his voice to normal to say “this one is from Pansy. She likes to think she’s fancy writing like that.”  The silly voice came back as he started over. “‘Dearest Draco, you are ridiculous to think I would shun any friend of yours. He sounds lovely and I can’t wait to meet him.  See you on the train! Yours forever, Pansy.’.” He made a face at the end. “I hate it when she says that.”

 

Harry snickered at his friend’s expression, and touched the letter gently.  “Did everyone respond...nicely?”

 

“Yes!”  Draco giggled.  “Shall I read more?”

 

He was certain it was rude to beg for compliments and positive comments, but he had had so few in his life he nodded eagerly.

 

He didn’t even stop to realize that he apparently now trusted Draco enough to not hurt him by reading a mean letter to him.

 

~~*~*~~

 

“Can I sit here?  Everywhere is full and my brother’s have a horrible spider with them and…Oh.” The redhead in the doorway’s voice trailed off as he stared at Harry, Draco, and Pansy.  “I know who you are. You’re a Malfoy, aren’t you?”

 

Draco leapt to his feet, snarling.  “And you must be a Weasley, with that horrible red hair and your dirty hand me down clothing.”

 

“At least my father isn’t a Death Eater!”

 

He hated yelling.

 

“At least my family aren’t blood traitors!”

 

“Will you two shut up?”  Harry barely registered Pansy snapping through their screaming as he pressed himself back as far away from the arguing boys as possible.  

 

Yelling never ended well for him.  He allowed his senses to shut off enough to fight off the memories that threatened to overwhelm him.

 

When his hands were suddenly enveloped in Draco’s, he felt his heart rate slowly start to decrease.  If Draco was holding his hands, then the yelling must be over. He felt his hearing refocus in time to hear both the other boys stammering out apologies and promises to never yell at each other again.  

 

“Please no more.”  Harry whispered hoarsely before looking at the intruding boy.  “Draco and Pansy are my friends. I want more friends, but I won’t have you saying things against the ones I already have.”

 

The red head swallowed and looked down sheepishly.  “I have a rotten temper. Names Ron Weasley.”

 

“Harry Potter.”  It still amazed him how easily he said his name now, how his real name now came to mind before the other horrible names given to him over his childhood.  

 

Before anyone could say anything else, the door opened to reveal the food trolley witch and her trolley of treats and Harry’s eyes widen in amazement.  He had never seen that many treats in one place, and he fingered the money Father had given him just for this purpose this morning, saying that this is what Fathers did for their sons and had given Harry a warm hug before sending him off with Draco to meet with Pansy.  “Could I have one of everything, please?” He asked softly, and the trolley witch nodded. 

 

“Of course, dearie.”  She said pleasantly. “Do each of you want one of everything?”

 

Draco and Pansy both nodded, fishing about for their own pocket money, while Ron scowled and looked away in embarrassment.  The three friends exchanged glances and then looked again at the witch. “Four of everything, please.” They said in unison as they handed over their sickles and galleons. 

 

It took a good minute, but soon each child had a small pile of treats.  Ron was stammering and blushing his appreciation. “I’ll find a way to pay you back.  Somehow.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Weasley.”  Draco shrugged easily, and Harry smiled at him appreciatively.  “If we’re going to be friends, you’ll just need to get used to it.”

 

Ron gaped like a fish for a moment before flushing and tearing into the packaging for Burties Beans.  “Wanna play a game? He asked instead of responding to the blond, and was met with two pairs of excited eyes and one pair of confused ones. 

 

“What kind of a game?”  Harry asked cautiously, wary of what possibly could become of such a request for him.  Games never went well for him at the Dursley’s.

 

Ron shrugged.  “I guess it’s less of a game and more who can find the best tasting ones and the worst in their box.”

 

Best  _ and _ the worst?  “What are they?”  His eyebrows were nearly up to his hairline as he shook his own box and blinked at the rattling inside.  

 

“Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.  And when they say every flavor, they mean it.”  Pansy giggled as she tore into the box and held up a mossy green one.  “This one could be anything. It could be bogies, or grass, or apple, or spinach.”

 

Harry nearly retched at the thought and then pulled out a blue bean.  “Any flavor at all?”

 

Draco nodded.  “I had a lobster one, once.”

 

“Percy got an earthworm once.  He won’t eat Burties any more.”  Ron snickered. 

 

Harry slowly placed the bean back in the box.  “Is...is there a way to not eat the horrible ones?”

 

“That’s half the fun!”  Ron protested, but Draco hushed him. 

 

“I think some of the older students might know a spell.  We’ll ask after the sorting.” He promised Harry, who smiled at him gratefully.  

 

“I’ve had enough of eating bad things in my life.”  He explained simply to Ron, whose brow furrowed with confusion, but he nodded anyway and the conversation moved on to quidditch and the upcoming sorting.  

 

“My brothers all have done different things.”  Ron was saying as they all nibbled at the cauldron cakes.  “Bill was prefect  _ and _ head boy and is now studying to be a curse breaker, Charlie was a prefect and is going to Romania to work with Dragons, Percy is wicked smart and probably going to be a prefect, too.  The twins are creative and weird and stand out because of their pranks and jokes. What else is there for me to do?”

 

The other three were quiet for a bit before Pansy piped up timidly, “you could always be the first Weasley in Slytherin.  You have a lot of ambition, especially if you want to stand out from  _ all _ of your family.” 

 

Silence met her statement and all three boys stared at her, Draco in stunned amazement, Ron in dawning realization, and Harry in excitement.  He knew Draco and Pansy would most likely be in Slytherin, and he was planning on begging whoever he needed to so he could be there as well. He had plans for his life, plans to make himself unable to be taken advantage of like Vernon did ever again.  If Ron was also in Slytherin, his school years could only be amazing. 

 

“We...we’ll be friends even if we aren’t all in the same house, right?”  Harry blurted out his fear, and he watches Pansy and Draco exchange a look, and Ron look speculatively between him and the other pair.  His heart started to sink.

 

“I’m okay with that.”  Ron spoke first, and Harry watched Draco and Pansy carefully for what they wanted.  He nearly collapsed in relief when both nodded their ascent. 

 

“If Weasley is willing, I am too.”  Draco said in what Harry had long decided was his favorite manner of speech, the one where he sounded exasperated and put out even when he wasn’t.  

 

Harry sighed in relief.  It seemed he had three friends before school even began!

 

~~*~*~~

 

To Harry’s surprise, there wouldn’t be anyone he could argue with about his house.  

 

They were sorted by a magic hat that apparently once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, if the three purebloods he walked in with were to be believed. 

 

As Harry had suspected, Draco and Pansy both were sorted immediately over to the Slytherin table.  After Pansy came a pair of twin girls that were split between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Sally-Anne Perks went to Hufflepuff and then it was Harry’s turn.

 

A warm look from his father bolstered his courage and he walked steadily up and sat on the chair like he had seen all the others do.  The ancient hat was dropped over his eyes and he jumped when a voice suddenly spoke to him. 

 

_ Hmm, difficult yes.  It’s all up here you know, in your head.  Oh, in Ravenclaw, you would learn much, however you would be overshadowed and lost.  Gryffindor your parents were, but you are not suited for the house of the brash and bold.  No, you are far more subtle than that, your past required it of you. Ah, I can see your desire to remain with your friend.  Such loyalty becomes a Hufflepuff, and you are certainly practical enough. No? No matter, I think you will do nicely in…. _

 

Harry held his breath, still scarcely able to believe that he, the freak, was actually something special.   _ Come on, enough with the dramatic pause!  Put me in Slytherin already. _  He met the eager grey eyes of his best friend from at the table of green lined robes and grinned widely when the hat finally spoke.

 

“Slytherin!”

 

The hall erupted into noise, and Harry ignored it all.  He kept his eyes on Draco and Pansy who grinned widely at him and patted the seat between them.  When he sat down without a single bit of panic, he felt extremely delighted with himself and looked up to see his father looking proudly down at him.

 

“Do you think Weasley will be able to convince the hat to let him be different?”  Harry whispered, and all three of them watched the redhead whiten as his turn came up. 

 

“We’re about to find out.”  Draco answered, and they all held their breath.

 

It seemed like Ron was having an intense argument with the hat, and when the silence dragged on longer than a girl who had eventually sorted Gryffindor after nearly 7 minutes, Harry started to worry.  

 

What if Ron was about to be sent home?  He gripped at Draco’s hand until his knuckles turned white.  

 

They all jumped when the hat suddenly laughed loudly and shouted “Slytherin!”

 

The trio were the first on their feet, screaming and hollering their approval.  Ron looked over at the Gryffindor table only once before smirking at his brothers and plonking himself down across from Draco.  “Well, that was a trial. I guess we’ll see if I still have a family after tomorrow.”

 

It seemed it had taken awhile for the news to register with the older Weasley’s in Gryffindor because their reaction was delayed until after Ron had sat down at the Slytherin table.  Stunned surprise gave way to shouting and whooping, a vast change from the boo’s they had shouted at the first Slytherin Millicent Bulstrode. 

 

“Somehow, I think that means you will have support.”  Draco said dryly, dishing out his plate from the various platters that littered the table.

 

“Or they’re trying to make me feel comfortable until tomorrow when they start the pranking of the first year Slytherins.”  Ron responded darkly. “I know my brothers.”

 

But no matter what happened tomorrow, Harry knew his life at Hogwarts was bound to be interesting or even exciting.  

 

Just a month ago, he had been just a worthless freak.  Now, he had friends, a father, and an entire world his relatives would never be a part of.

 

For now, life was good.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of my “Harry is rescued before Hogwarts somehow” one shots are aborted alternate beginnings to a different series re-write I’ve sidelined for the time being. Once I am completely done with all seven installments of my Raising Harry series, it will probably be the next one I write.
> 
> The first installment of Raising Harry is called A Childhood Well Spent, and begins posting on the 5th of January. It will update every Saturday. 
> 
> Thursday One-Shots are guaranteed on the first Thursday of the month. Any others posted during the same month are to be considered a bonus and not the norm. Expect the next one on the 7th of February.


End file.
